Till when do ye afflict my soul, And bruise me with words?
When do ye set an end to words? Consider ye, and afterwards do we speak.
And Job answereth and saith: --
These ten times ye put me to shame, ye blush not. Ye make yourselves strange to me --
Lo, ye -- all of you -- have seen, And why `is' this -- ye are altogether vain?
God liveth! He turned aside my judgment, And the Mighty -- He made my soul bitter.
Till when dost thou speak these things? And a strong wind -- sayings of thy mouth?
To the Overseer. -- A Psalm of David. Till when, O Jehovah, Dost Thou forget me? -- for ever? Till when dost Thou hide Thy face from me?
With a sword in my bones Have mine adversaries reproached me, In their saying unto me all the day, `Where `is' thy God?'
Sweeter than honey hath been his mouth, And his heart `is' war! Softer have been his words than oil, And they `are' drawn `swords'.
Lo, they belch out with their mouths, Swords `are' in their lips, for `Who heareth?'
Who sharpened as a sword their tongue, They directed their arrow -- a bitter word.
A rash speaker is like piercings of a sword, And the tongue of the wise is healing.
Death and life `are' in the power of the tongue, And those loving it eat its fruit.
and they were crying with a great voice, saying, `Till when, O Master, the Holy and the True, dost Thou not judge and take vengeance of our blood from those dwelling upon the land?'
And it cometh to pass, because she distressed him with her words all the days, and doth urge him, and his soul is grieved to death,